


1972 Perspectives - Change in the Air

by Spot_On60



Series: Black Ice [2]
Category: Dark Shadows (1966)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 09:43:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4661988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spot_On60/pseuds/Spot_On60
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leave it to a couple of men to get things turned around. Barnabas and Willie's relationship is changing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1972 Perspectives - Change in the Air

 

**1972 Change in the Air**

What was happening tonight? Veiled changes were taking place. The vampire sensed it early on. There had been a light lift of the mouth as his tie was straightened. Willie had been more relaxed than he had seen him in as long as he could remember.

Lying surrounded by the bed’s brass frame Willie’s back was pressed snuggly to Barnabas’ broad chest. The feel of linen shirting lost to him as the vampire quietly lapped and sealed the wound on his neck. One long arm wrapped around him from the back. The other arm’s large hand splayed across his chest, holding firm, catching the remains of pulses made by the young man’s spent body. With the neck wound closed and already healing, Barnabas watched as the sex flush across Willie’s chest faded; as his penis retreated. This was the time the vampire savored, after the riot of Willie’s release, as he melted into Barnabas’ arms; while the smell of sex was still strong and pungent in the air; the final moments of the vampire’s own orgasm. Barnabas wanted to rock him, but didn’t dare disturb him prematurely. Willie would soon enough become aware, struggling to be free, to disengage himself from the vampire’s embrace.

Although their encounters could no longer be called new, Willie still tensed, wanting to pull away after the waves had passed. Each time Barnabas gentled him, but could not hold off the inevitable. He supposed Willie still had not made peace with his own body’s desires. Wrapping himself in this intimacy with another man had been a struggle for Willie. He hadn't wanted this, but here it was. Barnabas typically initiated their assignations, but swore he would never again force himself on the young man and indeed had not. He was, however, surprised by the frequency Willie would now initiate their trysts, always tentative, and he had to admit, always charming.

Stroking Willie’s chest, damp with sweat, he buried his nose into soap scented hair as the young man began to stir into consciousness. Willie tightened his abdominal muscles preparing to sit up. But then, at the same instant the Vampire tisked in mild frustration over the moment being broken, Willie unexpectedly relaxed once more. Looking down, Barnabas watched as Willie turned his head away, took in a chest-filling deep breath and sighed with a lightly broken hum. Such a simple and otherwise unremarkable action, yet it wasn’t lost on the vampire. However it was only a minute or two before Willie opened his eyes and rose.

Barnabas sensed a difference, almost imperceivable. As he opened his arms to release the younger man he noted Willie lifted himself just that much slower; the movement just that much less like an escape. Willie sat with his back exposed, covering his lap with cotton sheet. Barnabas reached out and ran his fingertips down the length of Willie’s spine.

There it was again.

It could have been overlooked had the vampire not been paying attention. Willie didn’t move away from the touch. His skin didn’t automatically jump or twitch from the contact.

It had been two years since Barnabas and Willie had begun participating in this dance and still Willie behaved as a skittish colt. Just as it was difficult for him to answer a question immediately and firmly, a touch was always met with anything from a hesitation to a violent jump. It didn’t matter if the intention was clear, Willie’s first response was to first shy away and only then be able to accept the contact. But that hadn’t happened just now. He had accepted the stroke of fingers without hesitation.

Barnabas took in the faintly musk scent of Willie’s sweat, the sight of the muscles running down his back, and was briefly jarred by the scars that crisscrossed it. He thought absently there didn’t seem to be enough scarring for how many times it had been necessary to punish his servant. Glancing away, he quickly brushed off a gloating thought of how it demonstrated his own skill and restraint at not meting out more ruthless beatings. This reasoning was a matter of course for the vampire, yet tonight it somehow seemed inappropriate.

Barnabas was confused; could recognize it in himself. Looking anew at the scars he questioned why he felt no stirrings of guilt for the damage he had inflicted on this young flesh. Or was just the thought of it the guilt? Had he been deadened inside for so long he could no longer feel a disturbance in himself?

No, that wasn’t the case. Thoughts of his dear Sarah brought waves of affection, and thoughts of her death brought the turbulence of loss. Thinking of Josette brought love and devotion. Thoughts of Willie himself could bring anything from a gentle arousal to tides of desire within him. The entire juxtaposition was now annoying to him. And here was something he didn’t recognize in himself. He didn’t have a clue it was the internal thing, this separate being inside him, more than the outside world that was to blame for changing a mild manner in him to anger in three and a half seconds flat.

 _Why was Willie just sitting there?_ He resisted the urge to touch Willie’s skin again. Best to leave well enough alone.

Barnabas now rose, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. He sat on the edge as he rolled down the sleeves of his shirt. Reaching forward as he stood he grasped his vest putting it on, quickly working the buttons. He slipped his arms into the sleeves of the wool jacket. The waves from his own orgasm had been shut down abruptly.

Willie broke the silence, “Are you going out Barnabas?”

Barnabas turned as he secured the inner button of the double breasted jacket. Willie remained as he had been, sitting up, facing away.

Barnabas felt the irritation start. “Yes, I am,” he responded flatly. _Of course I am. Do you think my taking you for pleasure was truly enough for a feeding?_

“D-do you know when you’ll be home?”

“No,” he snapped.

As he finished the line of outer buttons he couldn’t help think he had been manipulated into answering another of his servant’s inconsequential questions. What did it matter his plans for the rest of the evening? He lifted his eyes to see Willie still sitting as before, maybe slightly more hunched forward now.

_And why are you just sitting there?!_

“Willie, lie down and go to sleep. I will prepare a list for you for in the morning. You’ll need rest.”

“Alright Barnabas,” Willie quietly flinched, but otherwise didn’t move.

_More irritation._

_Why is it always like this? Why is he incapable of just doing what he is told?_

He stared at the scars again. He knew they reminded Willie to use more care. They now reminded him of the same when he saw them, or touched them in the night.

_Practice patience._

Barnabas quietly took a breath and slowly let it out. He reached for a shoulder to press Willie downward. As the touch reached him Willie jumped as though he had been flayed. He startled enough to turn fully around landing with his legs folded under him and now barely covered by the sheet. His mouth worked as though he were trying to speak.

To blazes with it, his patience was gone, “Lie down now!”

In one motion Willie clutched the sheet fully around himself and dove to the bed.

Barnabas looked down on the prone form and fought off the compulsion to lift the man and slap him. But also, he instinctively checked the courting candle in his peripheral vision and made an unconscious note it had enough life to last until his return.

Why had he taken on the responsibility of keeping the lantern lit and glowing all night? At the time he only had a vague understanding. On his way out of the room he saw an old woolen blanket in a heap at the foot of the bed. He tossed it up and over Willie with one hand. He swung the door closed behind him as he made his way to the stairs.

In the front hall he stopped to slip on his great coat and pick up his cane. He was out the door and twenty yards down the drive when he stuffed his hand in a pocket and felt the key. He audibly growled when he remembered the new lock on the door. As he returned to the house he was close to uttering one or more of the obscenities Willie employed when he thought the vampire was out of earshot.

Willie had asked Barnabas if he could install new deadbolt locks on all of the exterior doors and the door to the basement. He stumbled and stammered and stuttered his way around the reasons he thought the new locks were needed. Barnabas agreed as it was becoming too painful to listen to him continue. Also Barnabas had to admit, what the young man had stated was sound, and besides, it seemed especially important to him. Barnabas was slowly coming around to the idea of Willie being far easier to manage when he had a little input in household matters. He was after all born to a time when it was believed all men had a say in their own destinies. Such prattle, but there it was. He would be hard pressed to find a man in Maine who would willing submit completely. With the idea of interviews out of the question he was best to stay with the young man he had been trying to mold for the past five years. And there was something very unique about Willie. Something different. Unfortunately, this meant he was now encumbered with not only carrying a door key, but remembering to use it.

Concluding his evening hunt, leaving the man to wake in a doorway, he strolled along the docks and streets of the sleeping village. As so often happened, his thoughts turned to his servant. There was a time he had held the conviction if he had known how difficult it would be dealing with Willie he would have killed him the first night. That was no longer the case, far from it; though, when angered, more than once he thought he would take the risk on someone new. Truth be told, over these few short years they had together, not only had Willie managed to grow on him, but in his own had burgeoned.

Willie had taken it upon himself to learn as much about furniture, design and architectural styles from 1750 thru 1850 as his master. And he didn’t stop there. The French Epoch was quickly becoming a favorite. Without a stammer to be heard he could intelligently discuss the subtle changes made to Art Nouveau as it slid into Art Deco. He could cite archetype examples of the Prairie Style movement and had a secret desire about it too. Unknown to Barnabas, he would like to visit Oak Park, Illinois someday to see or possibly tour Frank Lloyd Wright houses.

After telling Barnabas on that first night not to expect much because he, “ain’t no carpenter,” he had become quite the craftsman; self taught and thriving. The librarians would duck or wander into the stacks when they saw him coming. He had already put to memory all of the interior design, carpentry, home improvement and furniture repair volumes to be found in the Collinsport Public Library collection. He now knew there was an exchange program the library participated in with other libraries both large and small; from Portland and Bangor to Carthage and Waltham. Not a week went by when he didn’t read the catalog of available material and place an order for books and periodicals to be sent to the little Collinsport Library earmarked for W. Loomis.

Barnabas had tried to encourage him to begin reading the volumes of literature at his disposal in the Old House’s library, thinking it maybe a way for their conversations to be a little less one-sided. Willie had balked, saying he tried a couple of times, but all that flowery language had put him off. He couldn’t keep an interest in wording that danced around the subject. He wanted the writer to just get to the point. During his forays to the public library he would occasionally check out fiction. He had recently finished Mario Puzo’s “The Godfather” and had mentioned he really thought the vampire would enjoy it. He read about someone by the name of Robin Lee Graham in several editions of the National Geographic. He urged the vampire to read them as well. Barnabas didn’t know what on Earth would interest him about Italian miscreants or some modern day 20-year-old floating about on a boat. Likewise, why would he want to read a modern tale titled “Master and Commander” when he had volumes by people who had actually fought in the Napoleonic Wars?

Tonight the vampire considered a trade of sorts. He would choose a Napoleonic saga for Willie and in exchange he would read the Patrick O’Brian novel. He would add reading a book from his private library and acquiring the other from the public library to the list of chores he would leave in the morning.

Upon his return to the house he found himself in his servant’s room poking at the fire. No need for extra fuel, it would now burn hot until sun up. The candle on the other hand wouldn’t make it past the next hour. He was just swinging shut the lantern door when he heard the familiar question, “Barnabas?”

He looked down on the figure wrapped in blankets. He didn’t appear to be awake. “Yes, Willie?”

“Jus’ wanted to know if you’re there,” came the reply from the still form.

“Yes ….. I am.”

If Barnabas hadn’t known better he would have thought Willie was pleased to find him there, wanting him to remain. It was of course nonsense. He knew besides the physicality of this pactum between them, Willie loathed him. But being “Master and Commander” of this particular ship called the Old House what Barnabas did was at his own discretion. He would leave if he chose to do so without giving young Loomis the satisfaction of his continued presence.

He went to the chair next to the fire and sat down.

It wasn’t the first time he watched the young man sleep. He found Willie to be beautiful, with features that in of themselves would not be thought of as classic beauty, but put together in just this combination along with eyes the color of the sky and hair gleaming the color of the sand below the cliffs and there you had it: William Loomis of Collinsport, Maine.

His body hard from constant activity, though a bit underweight. He possessed a mine of honestly won hardened muscle, not the kind that could be bought with free weights and medicine balls. And a receptacle of secretly held softness: behind his ears; the lobes themselves; beyond his throat, where shoulder meets neck; through the hairline at the base of his skull; the inside of his forearms; inside his pelvis along the hipbones; the folds along his bottom, well inside, at the top of each leg;, his sex; and the sweet delicate skin inside his upper thighs.

Willie - beautiful, but as had been noted by others, not in any way unmanly. And here was something else that defined him, he did not trade on his looks. Barnabas suspected, although didn’t know for certain if he had before he came to the Old House, but he definitely hadn’t since his arrival. Was he unaware or just dismissive? Barnabas noticed a light crinkle next to an eye he hadn’t seen before. He must be pushing his way up to thirty years now. Barnabas didn’t know, one of those things he hadn’t asked. He had to be in his late twenties, but had the appearance of someone much younger. Though it seemed to the vampire Willie had added a couple of years rather quickly over this fall and winter.

Besides being pleasing to the eye Barnabas also found him intelligent and adaptive. No, he hadn’t the opportunity of higher education, nor had he even completed what is now called high school. But with the opportunity and proper encouragement, Willie could have been many things the young man would scoff at now. His problem solving and engineering abilities always proved to be remarkable; and his innate aesthetic found outlets for and from the former. What Willie was missing was the formality of a rounded education. Unfortunately, the hateful thing inside of Barnabas took great pleasure in telling Willie he was an idiot.

Barnabas thought of him as bold. Willie had been a sailor, street fighter and con man. He had been incarcerated and come out unscathed. Barnabas had felt a certain self-satisfaction knowing he had tamed the once feral boy without breaking his spirit. Well, he felt that way until the whole thing came crashing down the night Willie asked Barnabas to kill him and bury him with Jason.

Barnabas referred to the incident as Willie’s second concussion. He called it that, even knowing the fact was much more likely Willie had had an emotional breakdown. After returning him to bed that night, Barnabas was seated at his feet when Willie opened his eyes and began to expound in gibberish. He was speaking in a broken English, issuing nonsensical statements. For more than two weeks after, Barnabas had watched him as closely as he was able. Going so far as locking him in his room for the first several days to ensure he would bring no harm on himself during daylight hours or while Barnabas left the house to feed. He cared for him, fed and helped him bathe; sat with him in the library, sometimes reaching to pat a hand to calm; sat with him as he slept, and there massaging his hands, feet and neck. He wondered if even with their blood mixed had their bond been irretrievably damaged. Barnabas conjured the thing inside to use its powers to will the young man back to the here and now; the two of them sitting on the edge of the bed, Barnabas holding the sides of Willie’s head, speaking wordlessly with his eyes, not fully convinced the other understood him.

Barnabas silently gave Willie his word as a Collins he would do everything in his power to restrain himself. He vowed not to strike out at Willie to relieve his own frustrations. The Barnabas of old swore to tamp down the thing living inside him; thwart the thing’s thirst for humiliation. He had done so before, at least for a short time, until the thing manipulated its way back to power. It wasn’t as strong as prior and Barnabas felt he could hold it back from its most abusive yearnings.

It had been several months and the thing hadn’t made any serious efforts. This actually concerned Barnabas. Was it drawing plans against him? This inner clash was pure torment. The torment assigned to him many years ago in Martinique. He didn’t know it at the time, but his paranoia was developing a life of its own.

If Willie had hated him before, he loathed him now, the vampire knew it. Did it matter? With the thing forced down, if even only temporarily held at bay, yes it did. It did matter. It was beginning to matter a great deal.

The young man roused, rolled to his back then returned to his side. He dragged his pillow along with and tucked his hands up under it. He was under the sheet and blankets and Barnabas could see, just visible beneath the cover, the moss green fleece-like shirt Willie so often slept in, a gift from his “friend” in California. He still questioned what transpired there with Willie and that woman, but Willie was adamant the relationship was platonic. Willie’s eyes opened, looking directly at the vampire. It was only for a few seconds before the lids closed and again swept him away. As the eyes closed, Barnabas saw the gaze had been replaced with a smile; light, with only a slight upturn to the corners of the mouth, but clear. Barnabas didn’t know what to make of it. Had the young man actually seen who was sitting in the chair across from him, or was he asleep, lost on the wave of a dream? Either way he felt the warmth of the smile lazily drift across the room. He rose and approached the bed as the smile was dissolving. He wanted to touch that hair, brush it aside from the face. He’d done this before with mixed results. Either Willie slept through it or awoke with a start. Barnabas was hoping for the former. What he received instead were the eyes opening, looking up to him and the certainty Willie was awake. He felt caught out. Turning his hand over, he stroked down Willie’s cheek with his knuckles and whispered, “My spark.” Willie’s silent stare spread into a smile. Barnabas then turned and made for the hallway. Feeling Willie’s eyes on his back he closed the door quietly behind him.

_What was happening tonight?_

*************************************************************************************

Watching Barnabas leave his room, Willie wished life in the Old House could be like this more often; quiet, calm, no recriminations, no suspicions, no violence. Hell, he wanted it to be like this always, but knew it was a pipedream. It had been mostly a good night that hadn’t faltered until later on. Not like that was anything new, and on the bright side, it hadn’t totally disintegrated. Now here it was, once again peaceful. He let it sweep over him. Allowed himself to be surrounded by the feeling of safety and tranquility, no matter how fleeting. He needed this. He needed it desperately. It could, and probably would, all change tomorrow.

After all, the man he lived with and served was insane.

There was no way around it. Barnabas had more than just one screw loose. Willie did his best not to raise the ire of the creature who was all at once his master, lover, protector, tormentor. The vampire could be unpredictable and dangerous. He could be unreasonable and spiteful. He could be supportive and gentle.

Willie tried to understand it. What must it have been like to have had an affair with a woman who turned so vindictive? To have been transformed into this night prowler? This dispassionate creature? Willie could somewhat understand the loss of compassion for other humans. It had happened to him. There was a difference between them though. Willie was never a killer and he had rejoined humanity, he was convinced Barnabas never could. Never. That thing would always be inside him. One moment he was sure it was now his very soul, the next he thought he could see Barnabas’ actual soul slip by or actively trying to fight its way out. Was there a constant battle raging inside Barnabas for dominance? An old tale of good and evil? And all this on a good day. What was it like to be chained inside a box with only your own diseased mind to keep you company, with hunger gnawing at you? Without even the possibility of death to release you? Not for a few hours or even days, but for over a hundred years. Christ, for close to two hundred years. It’s no wonder he was bat shit crazy. It had physically changed him as well. He had only been around Willie’s age when he was chain inside the tomb, but he looked older. Anyone on the street would have pegged him in his mid forties.

Still, doing his best to understand Barnabas didn’t change the fact Willie was scared of him; often scared beyond belief. Even now. With a glance Barnabas could turn Willie into a quivering, frightened bird. He hadn’t cried as much in his entire life as since he had following the night he unleashed the creature. His nerves were frazzled. They were raw and exposed. Just the sound of Barnabas’s voice could freeze Willie in his tracks. Nonchalantly brushing by could evoke such uncontrollable tremors Willie had on more than one occasion dropped whatever had been in his hands; which brought on the beatings; which perpetuated the fear; which made it all the worse.

Barnabas couldn’t note enough times how clumsy he thought Willie was. But it wasn’t clumsiness. It was pure, unadulterated terror and panic. He wasn’t a fool as Barnabas kept insisting to him. He was tongue tied. The fear would overtake him and render him speechless. If he was lucky he would only fall into the stammering and stuttering patterns that now plagued him. He could speak to others with little faltering, but not Barnabas. No, with him it was starting to sound like a comedy routine. One that wasn’t very funny.

Early on he had been cocky, self-assured, disobedient and rebellious. He had even on occasion fought back. His inner spirit coming through, doing what it could to put a stop to the nightmare he found himself in. The vampire had all but destroyed it. Had beaten and scared it out of him.

And there was no escape. He’d tried to run. He tried on his own and he had tried with Maggie Evans. He had once leaned off the cliff of Widow’s Hill into sweet oblivion only to wake in his own bed with Barnabas stroking his forehead and murmuring to him with eyes more gentle and kind than any he had ever known. One night he had even begged Barnabas to kill him.

***************

He had been picking up Barnabas’ Town Car from an oil change. Had just swung out of the garage and was heading for home. As he crossed the intersection outside the garage the back end of the Lincoln was rammed. The impact from the pickup was so violent it spun the giant luxury sedan 180 degrees. The suddenness of it slammed Willie’s head into the door window with enough force to shatter it. He sat stunned in the stopped car holding the wheel properly at 10 o’clock and 2 o’clock and his foot hard on the brake. He could see the odometer in front of him but couldn’t actually register what it said. The side of his head hurt. It was one of the only times he called out to Barnabas, sent a message searching for him, telling him he had been hurt. It was late afternoon, but apparently not late enough. There was no response.

The car door opened as if by itself. He hadn’t seen anyone approach.

“Ah ya alright, Loomis?” The voice was punctuated with a heavy New England accent.

Willie couldn’t answer. He looked at the man leaning in the door. _Who the hell are you and how do you know me?_

“Loomis?”

The man reached in front of him, turned off the ignition and worked the gearshift into Park.

_Oh yeah, that’s right. It’s my old friend, what’s his name’s brother-in-law. The guy whose garage I just left. What’s his name again?_

_Don’t draw extra attention._

“Yeah. M’okay.” Willie was beginning to find focus again, but was still terribly confused. “What happened?”

“Ya got nailed going through the intahsection.”

_This guy sounds like a Bostonian. Must be in Boston. I hate driving in Boston. No wait, I’m in Maine. I just got an oil change. I’m in the Lincoln._

“Is the car damaged?”

“Yup, mashed up in the back.”

“Barnabas is gonna kill me.” Willie was mostly back and was now working on getting his adrenaline shaken legs out of the car. As he stood he swooned, beginning to crumble into the door frame. He could feel hands easing him back onto the seat.

“Stay wheyr ya ah. I’ll take a look.”

Willie stared at the pavement thinking maybe just maybe there wasn’t any damage. He could hear someone, off somewhere, saying, “An ambulance is comin’? Good. He’s kinda outtuv it.”

Still staring at the ground in front of him a pair of highly polished black shoes came into view. “You alright, son?”

Willie looked up into the face of one of Collinsport’s finest. “Yeah, I’m good. Just a little shaky.”

“Well, you sit tight. We have an ambulance on the way.”

Willie’s blood pressure shot up as panic hit. “No! No ambulance! I’m okay. I don’t need to go to the hospital.” _Can’t take a chance on blood being drawn._

Setting a hand on Willie’s shoulder he said, “Relax. No one said anything about the hospital. Not for you at least. The other guy isn’t lookin’ so good. We’ll just have them take a quick look at you. Okay?” Another pat on the shoulder and the officer wandered off to join his partner at the pickup truck, leaving Willie where he sat.

Willie made a concerted effort to stand up. He had his footing this time and was able to walk around the back of the car. He took one look at the damage and just about keeled over again. He reached for the trunk to steady himself. “Christ!”

His no-name collision advisor was squatting down inspecting the crumbled quarter panel, “It actually looks wahse than it is. You’ll need a new panel and light. I think the bumpah will straighten right out. You can still drive it.”

Willie wanted nothing more than to drive it away right then, but that wasn’t to be. Recording all of his information, giving his report, photos of the scene, waiting for and fending off well meaning but unwanted medical help, it wasn’t until an hour later he was able to go. He was told the other driver had been issued citations and given a court date should he want to respond. He was handed copies of the accident report. Driving home with the heat blasting to warm him on the cool, fall evening. Most of the heat escaped out the shattered window. It was past dark and he knew the vampire would be awake when he reached the Old House; the place at the moment he didn’t want to call home. He was starting to shake, but not from the cold.

He pulled into the carport next to his truck. He had seen light coming from the front room as he came up the drive which meant Barnabas had to light the candles himself, not something he particularly enjoyed doing without adequate notice. He hated going upstairs to a dark house. Willie entered through the kitchen door, but didn’t stop. He knew he must report what had occurred to the vampire immediately. He continued through to the hallway and on to the front parlor.

Barnabas was standing before the fireplace staring into the flames as Willie approached from the hall. Before he had entered the room Barnabas spoke, “Where have you been?”

Willie froze. Unable to speak a word, he had a flash of the damaged fender. He was running the police report through his fingers from one hand to the other. He dropped his head and hunched his shoulders trying to form a sentence.

“I asked you a question Willie. Does your reluctance to answer tell me you have news you don’t care to share?”

This made the shaking in his hands worse.

_Does he already know?_

“I-I-I-I…” Starting again, “Th-th-there was an accident. I was in an accident.”

Barnabas turned to look him up and down, “Are you injured?”

“N-n-no. M’okay. B-b-but Barnabas, the c-c-c-car is d-d-damaged.”

“Badly?”

“It can be repaired,” he blurted out.

“Show me.”

Willie spun and headed back the way he came. The hallway was dark, but there were candles glowing in the kitchen. He hadn’t noticed them when he first walked through. Barnabas must have lit them. He went straight for the opposite door hearing Barnabas close behind. They made their way to the vehicle with Willie pushing himself harder with every step as they got closer to the damaged Town Car.

“I-i-i-t’s not a-a-as bad as it l-l-looks, Barnabas.” Willie was now tripping head-long over his own mouth. His stutter was out of control.

Barnabas looked down at the crushed fender. He then walked around to the front of the car and back down to the driver’s door noting the absence of a window when Willie started again, “You probably can’t s-s-see b-b-because of the dark, b-but it can all be r-repaired.”

_Stupid. Stupid thing to say. Of course he can see. He can see in the dark for Christ sake. He can see every minute detail. He can see you shakin’ like you did somethin’. He can see you look guilty._

“How did you manage this, Willie?”

Willie startled. The voice was ice cutting through him. “I-it wasn’t my fault Barnabas.”

“It never is, is it Willie?”

And with that the vampire was upon him, grabbing him by the back of the neck, pushing him to the kitchen door. Holding him so forcibly now where he had held him so gently just a few nights before. Squeezing and hurting him where he had previously cradled him.

Inside the kitchen, Barnabas shoved his servant hard enough for him to land half laid on the table, already in position for the beating. “Stand and give me your belt.”

Willie stood, spinning around, leaning backward over the table, “B-but it wasn’t my fault, Barnabas.” He held up the police report, “See? Y-you can read it for yourself.” His voice was already cracking.

Barnabas circled around like the predator he was, “Were you not operating it when this happened? Or did you allow someone else to operate my vehicle?”

“N-no, Barnabas. I-I was driving but th-the accident, i-it was the o-other guy’s f-f-fault. H-he ran a red light an-an-and plowed right into me.” The way Barnabas was moving was surreal. Willie felt he was being hunted.

“If you took care you would have avoided it.” Stepping forward now, “Hand me your belt,” low, like a growl. Barnabas stood upright and demanding. Willie was seeing him hunched, readying himself to pounce.

Willie was holding out the police report with two shaking hands, “P-please, Barnabas. Please look at it. It says right on there the other guy got the ticket. Please, look.” Tears were streaming down his face and the panic in him was palatable. Something had been set off inside of him. His entire body had become a mass of unsynchronized shakes, jerks and tremors.

“Hand your belt to me. You won’t like it if I need to tell you again.”

Willie was inching along the table with the vampire matching him step for step. He didn’t see the vampire as he actually was. Willie saw him as low, crouching and stalking. Barnabas’ fingers each appeared ten inches long, his face distorted and skull-like. Willie was sobbing now and clutched his hands to his chest in the familiar gesture of fear. The police report crinkled as it collapsed in his fists.

“Please Barnabas. Please don’t hurt me. I-I can’t take anymore.” No truer words were ever spoken.

His heart felt out of rhythm and that it would burst at any moment. “Please!” His voice was a high pitched cry. He reached the wall and couldn’t go any farther. He was in a full blown panic and felt his bladder let go. “It wasn’t my fault!” He squeezed his eyes painfully shut. “Oh God, somebody help me outta here.” His shoulders were pulled so far forward it was causing him to roll from side to side on the wall. His knees buckled as if securing pins had been released. He slid to the floor.

He had reached his breaking point. Five years he had submitted to these attacks; forcibly, willingly or grudgingly, but tonight he couldn’t. It probably wouldn’t be the worst he’d ever received, but he couldn’t manage one more. He wouldn’t have been able to say what was different. He couldn’t say what set off this hysteria on this particular night. He had been punished for so many things he had and hadn’t done, there was no counting them. His reason was gone. He only knew he wouldn’t survive even one blow. He was curled in a ball on the floor sobbing, clutching the police report to his chest. Hitching, “No no no m-m-more.” He started screaming. “P-p-please, B-Barnabas!” He was hitching so hard he was having trouble breathing. “Please, please….. No more,” and was devoured by sobs.

A blackness had descended on him. A blackness from which he would never again be free, he knew it, could feel it deep within him. The life was ebbing out of him, leaving only the heartbeat behind.

Barnabas broke. His eyes flashed from black to brown as he stood looking at the quaking huddle on the floor in front of him. The smell of urine was strong in his sensitive nose.

Barnabas knelt down and lifted Willie by his shoulders until he was upright, sitting against the wall. His knees had lifted and followed as he was raised. He was a stiff, gasping bundle. Eyes squeezed tight he could only repeat, “Please make it fast. Please make it f-fast.” Even with his knees pulled up to his chest, Barnabas could see the large, dark wet spot on Willie’s jeans, seeping between his legs, around his crotch.

“Willie.”

Willie was no longer coherent.

Louder, “Willie.” No change, it was as if he’d spoken to the moon.

“Willie!” Followed by a slap to the face.

Willie gasped. Between gulps of air, “I’m so scared. I’m so afraid of you.” More hitching, “I’m so scared……I’m always s-so scared”

Barnabas took the man’s face in both hands. As his eyes blinked black he said, “Willie, open your eyes.”

Willie sucked in and bit down on both lips then shook his head no.

Barnabas looked down at the floor, took a deep breath, let it out and tried again, slightly firmer, “Willie, open your eyes and look at me.” It wouldn’t do to be short tempered.

He brushed Willie’s hair up out of his eye with the edge of his hand. He lifted Willie’s chin with the other then held his face again with both, “Willie, open your eyes.”

Willie could no longer refuse. He opened his eyes directly into the black depths of the vampire. He startled and yelped. A sob escaped him as he tried to look away. His head would turn, but his eyes were locked on his master’s. He was again seeing the skull-like face barely recognizable as Barnabas.

His entire body shaking convulsively, “I’m so afraid of you, Barnabas.”

Barnabas wiped tears away from one cheek with his thumb only to have more follow. He stared past the blue into the pupils. Willie snapped his mouth shut and whimpered.

He had Willie, but couldn’t make him respond. Willie wasn’t fighting him. He simply wasn’t there. He was blank. A black translucent curtain separated the two. Barnabas held him there for what seemed an eternity until finally and with some relief he heard an audible gasp accompanied by a shutter. Willie’s mouth was now fully open and his crying had stopped. Barnabas wiped the tears from his cheeks with his open hands. He was still racked with shaking, but was starting to calm. Barnabas allowed him to sit, waiting for his breathing to even.

He took the crumbled ball of paper, reached up and put it on the table. He took both of Willie’s hands. “Stand up.” Willie struggled to his feet and leaned against the wall. He could now feel the moisture along his pants. Dropping his head he began to quietly weep. His hands were flat against the wall and Barnabas thought he was slipping back. Grasping his face, again he caught Willie’s eyes, “We’re going to clean you and change your clothes. Do you understand?”

Willie nodded and whispered, “Yes, Barnabas.”

Barnabas led him to the sink and positioned his hands on the edge. He filled the kettle and placed it on the hot plate of the stove. He removed towels and soap from the linen press and placed them next to the sink. “Wait for me here. I will return in a few moments.”

When he again entered the kitchen carrying fresh clothes Willie was standing naked except for socks at the sink drying himself with a towel, trembling. Barnabas was taken aback, but didn’t let it show. Outside of his room, Willie was never immodest.

He didn’t know if his servant was still shaking from despair or shivering from the cold water he had used to wash himself. He approached him and pulled the favorite sleeping shirt over Willie’s head. The young man fumbled about inside it feeling for the armholes. Barnabas knelt down, opening the waistband of the briefs wide while Willie put one hand on the edge of the sink and the other on Barnabas’ shoulder. He stepped in and Barnabas brought them up past his knees. “Pull these up.” He then directed Willie to a chair and handed him the flannel pajamas pants and thick socks. As Willie worked on exchanging his socks and pulling on the pants, his master collected his damp clothing from the floor, folded each item loosely and set them outside the back door. “You may deal with those tomorrow.”

Willie sat in the chair with his head dropped, sniffling. It wouldn’t stop. He kept wiping his nose with the back of his hand, but it wouldn’t stop. The more he concentrated on getting himself under control the more he shivered. “Are you hungry, Willie?” came Barnabas. Willie shook his head no, still trembling. “Then it would be best for you to go to your room.” Willie stood, hugging himself around the waist as he made his way to the back stairs.

In his room he crouched as he did in front of all the fireplaces when lighting them; one knee up with the leg folded in front of his chest, the other folded down with the knee kicked out. He was shivering. He had no idea if the shivering came from being cold and he had no idea how to light a fire to help him decide. He was completely confounded by how to perform the task he had easily done a thousand times. He dropped his head to the inside of his upright knee and wept. It simply wouldn’t stop. His shoulders were shaking violently and the rest of his body was shivering. He was absently tracing one of the bricks on the hearth with his finger.

_Christ, did you piss your pants, Loomis?_

_I can’t keep going._

_When he takes you in his arms you are completely his._

_When he bends you over the table you are completely his._

_I can’t keep going._

He hit himself in the right temple. Now both sides of his head hurt. Didn’t matter.

Barnabas could move him like no other. It had now come down to this. The explosion of pleasure he couldn’t get from a woman or give to himself wasn’t enough to make up for the terror and pain that so filled his life. He felt he had been chipped away at for so long there was nothing left but exposed ragged edges.

He had given up.

He hadn’t noticed the tears stopped and his face was now almost dry. The shaking and tremors were gone as well, but his nose was still a little runny. He stood and looked into the unlit fireplace wiping the rest of the dampness from his face with the full length of his hand. He felt calm. He felt resigned. With his hands once more wrapped around himself he headed out the door on his way to find the vampire.

Barnabas was sitting in his chair in the library. He had been deep in thought and looked up as the young man headed towards him with an intent he couldn’t discern. He had put both hands on the arms of the chair to stand when Willie reached him and dropped to his knees on the floor. Barnabas didn’t know how to respond when Willie, kneeling between his thighs, reached around him with both arms and held tight to his waist, pressing his face into the sitting man’s hip. Barnabas’ hands still held the arms of the chair. He was at a loss.

“Please let me go, Barnabas.” The voice was soft, clear and steady. “I know I can never walk away from here, but please let me go.” There was no stammering. “We can go to the mausoleum. We can do it there. I’ll dig the hole even. If you bury me there I won’t be alone. I’ll be with Jason.” He paused, “Things really fell apart for us, Barnabas, but I miss him.” Barnabas’ hands lowered to Willie’s shoulders. “Do you know I see him in the stars?” He was quiet for half a moment. Readjusting himself, he turned his head to the other side and sniffed. He spread his fingers and tightened his hold. “Please let me go.”

Barnabas moved one hand up and down between Willie’s shoulder blades and with the other combed through the soft hair with his fingers. He felt a large egg shaped lump nestled in there. “Willie, you’re injured. Perhaps you have another concussion.”

“I smacked my head into the window in the accident. It’s how the window got busted. I tried calling to you, but I guess you didn’t hear me.” Willie wiped his nose on Barnabas’ leg and laid his head back down.

Barnabas reached behind to remove Willie’s arms. “Come.” Barnabas took a book from the table and carried it with him as he accompanied Willie to his room. After starting a fire and lighting the candle he sat in the chair next to the fire while, exhausted, Willie drifted off. Maybe Barnabas was right. Maybe he did have another concussion, or maybe he didn’t. Neither one of them knew.

Willie roused late in the night to find Barnabas at the foot of the bed rubbing his feet and ankles through the covers. Then was as good a time as any, it needed to be done. He explained to the vampire in great detail how to pack grease in the pistons of a freighter. Barnabas looked at him like he had two heads. Maybe he was getting hung up on the part about using the wheat stalks to chase the rats off. So he told him again, this time using smaller words even he should be able to understand.

_For Christ sake, how many times do I have to say it?_

In the next weeks, Barnabas nursed him. He made him his meals, washed and shaved him. He stayed with and doted on him.

Willie was finally able to completely brush away the last traces of confusion the evening Barnabas bundled him up in a heavy sweater, extra socks, boots, pea coat and his red scarf, and walked with him out to the snow marooned cutting garden. He talked at length of his plans for reviving it to its former glory. In the vibrant moonlight Willie saw the garden grow up through the snow, melting it as the flowers bloomed. Before he knew, Barnabas was asking for and he was giving his opinion on the project. He admitted to Barnabas he would need to read up on plants and gardening. He really didn’t know much about any of it.

Barnabas said simply, “Good.” He took Willie by the elbow and pointed him toward the house, “Now let us get you back inside. I believe it’s too cold out here for you tonight.”

***************

That had been several months ago and life had continued for Willie. Once back on his feet he arranged for all of the repairs to the Town Car and worked his way through the insurance requirements and court proceedings. He continued on with his routine. Life once again had returned to as normal as it could be in the Old House; except for one thing, he had not been on the receiving end of any further attacks or even the threat of one. Not of the sort where he was laid bare and bent over the table. He hadn’t since been ordered to expose himself with his balls instinctively seeking protection by rising up tight to his body. He hadn’t again been subjected to the humiliation of crying into his arms only to have to then stand and try to pull up his pants with shaking hands and tear blurred eyes. He hadn’t been woken by the vampire through the night to have blood wiped away and wounds washed.

Barnabas had slapped him several times since. It stung and Barnabas could pack enough energy into a backhand to send him off his feet or into the next room. But Barnabas didn’t seem as bent on inflicting the degradation he had been so fond of. Still, Willie couldn’t relax. The vampire was so unpredictable he remained afraid. He felt he was never far from things returning to how they had been. The memory of the beatings with his belt, a switch or the ever ominous cane kept Willie cautious and wary. He did notice his speech was improving around the creature so maybe he had relaxed a little; although, if caught unaware he could still stumble his words about. Or if the vampire came up on him from behind or simply appeared as he was so apt, Willie would jump out of his skin. It had happened earlier this very night when he touched Willie’s shoulder after thinking he had already left the room.

This night had started well. Willie hadn't been doing his best to hide from his master. Instead he was preparing.

Barnabas had planned a special event for himself and Victoria Winters, an evening of theater. Willie would drive them to Portland for a production of “The Fantasticks”. Willie of course had made the arrangements for premier tickets including light hors d'oeuvres and cocktails in the VIP lounge prior to the performance and re-entry to the lounge during intermission. He would drive them there then return them to Collinsport and the Collins Estate.

Willie looked forward to evenings like these. He didn’t even mind the tie and jacket or wool overcoat Barnabas insisted he wear while chauffeuring. There was, however, the ritual of Willie’s tie.

Willie’s adjustments to his tie were never satisfactory to Barnabas. He would tie the tie then looking in the mirror in his room, all but took out a ruler to measure it for perfection. Without fail Barnabas would make adjustments to the knot, the fold of his shirt collar, retie the tie completely or a combination of any or all of the three. After a while Willie found it easier to just go in Barnabas’ dressing room or downstairs with his shirt collar open and his tie draped around his shoulders. He would stand still with his chin up, looking over Barnabas’ head, but more often into his eyes. While Barnabas manipulated the tie his eyes turned from black to brown and became almost human once more. There was something in the act of working with a neck tie that kept the thing inside Barnabas at bay, if only for a few moments. Willie couldn’t explain why, even though he was in so vulnerable a position, with the vampire capable of and having the means to strangle him, he felt at ease and trusting.

It was ironic. After Turkey, the only man Willie trusted with physical contact was Jason, and that had ended so badly. But there were two situations when Willie had absolute trust in Barnabas, yet both should have sent him into the shadows with fear. One was when he had his chin up and head tipped back, exposing his throat to the creature while having his tie knotted. And the other, when he turned his head to the side, lifting his jaw away exposing his neck veins as Barnabas prepared to take him to orgasm.

He rather enjoyed Barnabas fussing over him on these nights. It was as though fear wasn’t the other entity living with them in the house. Preparing for date night was rather relaxing. Though a bit of a third wheel during the date itself, his time came later, after the always correct Miss Winters was safely deposited back at Collinwood. Willie became accustomed to whenever Barnabas made a date with Vicki, he also made a date later with him.

Tonight, Willie drove Barnabas, situated in the backseat of the Town Car to Collinwood where Barnabas would escort his date to the car. Willie was ordered to stay behind the wheel. This after the night Vicki remarked how pretentious it seemed to have someone holding the door for a couple of people who had sufficient knowledge of car doors to be able to open and close one for themselves. Willie loved Vicki.

He found himself tuning out the couple in the backseat before they had even left the estate. He set the radio low, playing dinner jazz. He was content to live in his own head as he guided the big sedan to the highway where it became the ultimate cruiser. Upon reaching Portland Willie had no problem maneuvering it through the busier traffic. It was no longer than the pickup he drove every day, plus the Lincoln had superior handling.

Upon reaching the theater Barnabas gave him instructions as to the time they should be retrieved. Willie nodded and smile as he said, “Okay, Barnabas,” not mentioning he was the one who made the arrangements and knew the timetable perfectly well. After dropping them off he took the car to his favorite garage to wait. If it was warm enough outside he would leave the car and stroll the streets of Portland. Some nights he would step inside a bar, drink a soda and look for a little female company and conversation. On a night like tonight he kept the gas guzzler running, opened his Thermos and curled up on the front seat with a book. He stopped to set his watch. The Christmas prior Barnabas had given him the Bulova Accutron with an alarm.

The previous summer Willie had brought his alarm clock from his room on a night out in Bangor. It had already been a long day of work and he wanted to be sure he didn’t fall asleep and be late picking them up. Barnabas had remembered and left the engraved watch for him to find wrapped on Christmas morning. It was a beauty. With no face he could see the mechanisms working under the crystal. Rather than ticking, it hummed. The Accutron was electronic and very modern and very appreciated.

The two theater goers were in fine spirits as they returned to the car with Vicki lightly singing “Try to Remember”. Willie escorted them home, dropping Vicki off first. He thought she was great and was happy to have Barnabas courting her after he finally admitted it wasn’t a good idea to keep trying to replace Josette. Willie had had a hand in the decision one night after they had dropped her off.

It had become a custom after a night of driving for Barnabas to ask Willie to sit with him in the front parlor or library. There he would pour Willie a nightcap. It could be sherry, port, a glass of wine, bourbon, an aperitif or even a beer. Whatever the young man requested, Barnabas would serve, except for mixed drinks. Barnabas didn’t do mixed drinks.

One evening Barnabas started in on his indefatigable plans for Miss Winters. Willie was, as always, terribly uncomfortable talking about it or hearing the master’s new details and twists. With half a glass of bottled courage settling in him he began to talk into his drink. He spoke of how it was a whole new world Barnabas was living in. He had only been released a few years and maybe he should keep his options open. And he hadn’t been a vampire very long prior to being locked in the coffin either. If he played his cards right he could have a lot of opportunities. Instead of having one woman who may or may not act like Josette, why not consider courting many women? Why be tied down? What was his hurry? He literally had all the time in the world.

When he looked up, Barnabas was staring directly at him, “You have made an excellent point.” Willie couldn’t believe he had actually gotten through that thick skull. He couldn’t resist smiling across at the vampire.

Tonight after returning from Portland, they were rather quiet while Willie sipped on a beer. It was a calm winter’s night with no wind or snow lashing at the windows, there was only the sound of the logs crackling in the fireplace. They were both more in their own thoughts with only bits of small talk between them.

Barnabas, with fingers steepled, stared into the fire thinking of the young man nearby. He always looked forward to his late nights devoted to Willie. He had found recently he no longer savored other men. He didn’t take pleasure in them as he once did. Yes, he would still leave them unaware of their encounter and feeling blissful after he fed from them, but he couldn’t seem to revel in them for himself. Women stimulated him in a different way, on a different plane than men. He still enjoyed feeding from them, but even they didn’t fully satisfy him. It was Willie who did. Or rather, Willie who would, if he could only acquiesce to enjoy the contentment and peacefulness that came with lazing in the afterglow of their intimacy. However, he knew besides the sexual relief he provided the man, Willie didn’t like him; actively disliked him as a matter of fact. And when they were done and Willie was coming back into himself he disengaged and moved away.

After the first few nights of his release from the coffin Barnabas never again used Willie to feed. Then after that time in the kitchen he found himself being enticed by the heat coming off the boy’s body, he took a taste of pleasure from him.

Barnabas knew what he could give Willie, but was completely unprepared for what Willie could offer to him. Of the hundreds he had partaken in, Willie was apart from them all. It was only Willie who reached deep into what was left of his soul. It was more than a physical climax with Willie, it was emotional too. There was a heat inside Willie that was at times too much for him to bear; that fueled his desire; that kept him going back for more. Something inside Willie lit a small flash inside Barnabas; a spark.

Willie was sipping his beer, drawing out the anticipation of his time ahead with his master. And with what Barnabas could do to him, he truly was the master. He didn’t think there had been one nerve left in his body not tantalized by Barnabas. He often found himself waking from a stupor after being taken by him. What he really didn’t know was what the vampire got from him. He didn’t think the vampire soared to the heights he did. And Barnabas only took enough blood to bring Willie to climax.

He suspected Barnabas used these trysts as a way to bond Willie to him. But why? They were bonded to each other the first time the vampire drank from him, purposely infecting him, instilling in him a constant knowledge of the vampire, the constant presence of him, the ultimate concomitance. The vampire told him he didn’t do it to others. And at this point in time he was the only one.

Willie could feel Barnabas inside him, always in the back of his brain. Sometimes he could feel the vampire within him almost physically. When separated they had a way of communicating, of being able to hear each other. There were only brief words and a touch; a sonar ping if you will. Barnabas called to Willie regularly, while Willie seldom tried to contact the vampire. Barnabas was also able to speak directly to him with his eyes, could draw him into their depths, could manipulate and hypnotize him. He could repair and rejuvenate him. How much closer could they be?

They didn’t share a love. Willie didn’t see how they ever could; although, in the last few months Willie was finding he no longer hated the vampire. As each evening passed without Barnabas setting out to terrorize him, Willie was able to see beyond more than thoughts of his own survival. He could see his master was trying to keep himself from taking all of his frustrations and anger out on his servant. Wary as he still was, he did appreciate the effort. Willie was also finding he was becoming more comfortable with his loyalty to Barnabas, it didn’t feel as forced, as involuntary. It would have been better if Barnabas was also loyal to him, but that was not the case. He had been told in the past not to count on it. Barnabas thought him a fool. He didn’t think he was, but somehow managed to prove the vampire right over and over. Without any effort on his part he also irritated the vampire to no end. He didn’t know if it was really him or just the dark shadows of the vampire himself.

Barnabas really was trying. He knew for instance, even if the vampire said otherwise, Barnabas wanted to finish up and be gone after their couplings, yet he never pushed Willie aside. And he was trying too. Though he wanted to be held in those arms and continue to be petted by those hands, Willie always sensed when he needed to let go of Barnabas until the next time. So for all of this, whatever Barnabas’ reasons were for wanting to pleasure him, Willie was happy to accept the efforts and absorb as much as he was allowed.

“I’m going to brush my teeth.” With that Willie took his glass to the kitchen. Barnabas was waiting for him next to the banister when he again came through the hallway. The irony of seeing Barnabas waiting wasn’t lost on him. One night, early on, Willie had asked him if he should go ahead to his room and wait there. Barnabas took Willie’s face in both hands and ducked his head to him. “You are not a concubine.” Willie could hardly wait until the next morning to look in the dictionary to see what he wasn’t. It was a relief.

In his room Willie lit candles, took off his jacket and hung it in the armoire. He sat on the edge of the bed while Barnabas lit a fire. When Barnabas stood so did Willie. One pleasure they shared was Barnabas undressing him.

 

Willie was lost in a rich fog, awake but unseeing, his body spent. They both were lying on their backs, Barnabas against the pillows slightly turned up on his side, with Willie held tightly to him in his arms. He could feel the vampire lick his neck; so very soothing.

Soon Willy became aware of his master stroking his chest. He was probably trying to wake him up to get this over with. He could feel Barnabas nuzzling into his hair. It was nice. Willie didn’t want it to end. He knew Barnabas was trying to rouse him, yet his gentle way of going about it was so lulling. But as he came to, his instinct told him to rise. He started, then decided he wasn’t ready to get up. As he relaxed he heard Barnabas tisk with frustration. Barnabas would have to wait a minute. He turned his head, stretching the skin there, once again feeling where the fangs had pierced him, took in a chest-filling deep breath and sighed.

After a moment or two he grudgingly gave in and sat up on the bed, grabbing a handful of sheet covering his still moist lap. It had been a particularly satisfying session. The kind he never wanted to end. The kind he had so much trouble coming back from. He sat with his eyes closed reliving this part and that.

At one point Barnabas had rolled him on his stomach. He traced his fingers from the young man’s shoulder down until he reached the valley of his lower back, but instead of continuing down as Willie expected the large hand clasped around his waist, squeezing him and turning him quickly back up on his side, then sliding to his front grasping at his belly and into his hair. It took him by surprise and he gasped. His toes curled.

_What the hell was that?_

Who knew the skin and muscles of his stomach could be so sensitive? And now back in the present Barnabas was once again running his fingers down Willie’s spine. Willie all but purred. He so wanted to turn and rest his head in the divot between Barnabas’ shoulder and chest, but knew it wouldn’t do.

It was during these in-between times of euphoria and consciousness Willie most strongly felt the need to be cared for, to be coddled. He yearned for safety, like a child. He didn’t have to be told by a professional it stemmed back to an unloving father and hard, inattentive mother. He knew it. He had the safety and security of his home and family when he was young, at least he thought he did. But as he grew, the more tenuous he could see that reality was. He longed for the old feelings of being cared about, even if they were mostly illusion. Then came Jason.

Jason did his best to care for him. Sometimes he failed, but not out of lack of trying. He loved Jason and Jason loved him … until they came here. Looking back it was as though the moment he set foot in Collinsport his mind had been poisoned. It was like there was a sickness in the air that permeated and infected him. It manifested in greed, more greed than he could ever imagine. His belligerence was off the charts. He really needed Jason to take him away. Put some distance there. Take him out to sea to smoke cigarettes, pass a bottle and watch the whales. Clear his head. But Jason wouldn’t be doing anything of the sort because he had been infected too. Willie pushed him, pushed him hard, and he’d turned on Willie. Their whole friendship came tumbling down, landing in a heap. It would have taken a monumental effort to restore it and even then it would have been something different, their old friendship was dead, as dead as Jason himself was now. Had they together engineered their own downfall, or was it only fate guiding them on a path already set out for them? Willie didn’t know, but there he was, alone with Barnabas.

He and Barnabas seem to be working a reverse pattern. From truly horrifying beginnings, things were becoming more manageable, but only barely. He was forever watchful. Looking for clues as to when his world would return to a living nightmare. Looking for something that was next to impossible; being cared for by the vampire.

Or was it cared _about_ by Barnabas?

He had never lived alone, had never been made to fully take care of himself. He was ready at one time or at least held the desire. After Jason died until around when he and Barnabas had become intimate. After the first dance, that night in the kitchen, he had tried so hard to not let himself fall for Barnabas’ romance. He knew better. Besides his heterosexuality, he knew if he were drawn in, not only would the two of them become inseparable lovers, he would also never be able to make an escape and go onto a life of his own. But he did and he was and they did and he will never be able to and still didn’t know how he would manage this for the rest of his life.

So he sat. Enjoying the present, with wonderment at what his body was capable of when put in the right hands. Those hands.

Willie became aware of Barnabas moving, getting up and fidgeting with his clothes. It meant the vampire was through with him.

Willie broke the silence, “Are you going out Barnabas?”

He could hear Barnabas turning, “Yes, I am,” he responded flatly. He was getting annoyed. It was in his voice. Willie wasn’t fully awake and still wanted Barnabas to return to him.

_Maybe he’ll wake me when he comes later to check the candle. If not to lie with me, at least sit in the room with me._

“D-do you know when you’ll be home?”

“No,” he snapped.

_Why did Barnabas want to ruin this?_

“Willie, lie down and go to sleep. I will prepare a list for you for in the morning. You’ll need rest.”

“Alright Barnabas,” Willie quietly flinched at the irritability he could hear rising in the vampire’s voice, but otherwise didn’t move. He was still steeping.

_He’s leaving. I’m going to sleep well tonight and then there’s tomorrow._

The day after was always a good one. His tensions were gone. He was relaxed and calm. And almost as good as that, Barnabas was too. They could look forward to several quiet days and nights provided nothing out of the ordinary happened.

_Even if he’s a little cranky now he’ll be better after he feeds._

Something landed on his shoulder.

_Jeezus! What was that?_

Willie jumped as though he had been flayed. He startled enough to turn fully around landing with his legs folded under him and now barely covered by the sheet. His voice was choked when he saw the vampire still there.

 _Christ Barnabas! I thought you were gone_. But nothing came out.

Barnabas’ patience was gone, “Lie down now!”

In one motion Willie clutched the sheet fully around himself and dove to the bed.

Having thrown a blanket on him, Barnabas really was gone this time. After a few more deep breathes Willie was once more relaxed enough to not let Barnabas’ sharpness ruin the night for him. He wouldn’t push himself to wake up and get out of bed in the morning. He would lie here and enjoy it. For now he would look back on before his master became irritable. He would remember the things he did with his hands….how they touched him….how Barnabas knows how to touch him like no one ever has before….not even the best of the best, the paid Hong Kong whores….not even that sweet girl he picked up in a bar in South Africa…. _we should do it outside….maybe in the summer on the beach….on the big rock…….._

 

Willie didn’t fully wake up when he heard movement in the room.

_Was he back? Were they secure?_

“Barnabas?"

“Yes Willie?”

“Jus’ wanted to know if you’re there.”

“Yes ….. I am.”

_Good_

Drifting away on a forgotten sea…

Willie rolled on his back then again on his side. The air felt warmer and it seemed like he had heard Barnabas in the room. His eyes opened almost on their own. Willie was pleased to see Barnabas sitting in the chair. It felt like the fire had been brought back to life. He closed his eyes and was sliding back to his dream when he felt the hand so familiar to him brush the hair from his forehead. He opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of it as it passed over his face. Then he was looking up at Barnabas who seemed to be better now. He stroked Willies face and called him, “My spark.”

Willie couldn’t stop himself from smiling now every time Barnabas called him that. Jason had called him “boy-o,” and it still warmed him to think of it. But he liked hearing this too. This term of what? Affection? He didn’t know why Barnabas had chosen it and Barnabas seldom used it, almost never in fact, but when he did Willie couldn’t help it, it made him feel good.

Willie didn’t sleep in as he had planned the night before. He felt too good to stay in bed. He and Barnabas had talked briefly last night about the need to get some wood cut up soon. He was thinking it would be on the list promised him. He dressed and headed down to the kitchen to make some coffee and shave. He felt light, almost buoyant. He saw the paper on the table and could make out Barnabas’ distinctive hand, but waited for his coffee before reading it.

Among other activities and shopping items was cutting wood, as he expected and wanted to do. He was feeling loose and limber and would enjoy working outside in the fresh air.

_What the….._

The second to last item was, “You will find three volumes on the table beside my chair in the library. Choose one to read. ”

When he got to the last item he had to read it a second time. It said, “Procure for me the novel ‘Master and Commander’ by Patrick O’Brian from the public library.”

 

It occurred to Willie he had been smiling more than usual lately.


End file.
